Till Death
by sbdrag
Summary: Sequel to More. Bard discovers he only has a month to live, and the same amount of time to decide whether or not he wants to become a shingami.But, as the day gets closer, old friends and past demons start showing up, and things get livlier than the cook would have liked...
1. Chapter 1

Bard took deep breaths. The morning air was crisp, biting at his heated skin as he ran.

It was an old habit that he'd started getting back into recently. Running in the morning fog, just to keep in shape. But it helped clear his head, and sometimes he just needed that. Especially with all the thoughts he was only really half having during the day. Usually, right when he felt on to something, he would be interrupted by a raven-haired butler and forget what it was he'd been trying to figure out. Typically involving said butler, and the relationship they shared.

Bard shook his head. He didn't want to think about that now; that was the whole point of coming out to run. Even Sebastian seemed to understand that he needed his space when he went out this early, and thinking of the butler now would be like inviting the man to come with him. Which, of course, would cause him to lose his time to unwind. And, judging by how the last fight had went, Bard was well aware of the fact that he needed time to relax.

The cook slowed as he saw a figure in the mist. He jogged to stop, giving the man a once over. Black suit, glasses, black gloves and bright green eyes. Shinigami eyes.

"Bardroy C. Lewin?" the man asked, pushing his glasses up on one side. Panting lightly, Bardroy nodded.

"That's me," he said. The shinigami nodded, then held out a manila envelope. Bard stared, then took it gingerly, carefully turning it in his hands. The shinigami turned on his heel and made to leave. "This means a month, right?"

"Yes," the shinigami paused. "You have that long to decide."

"…understood," Bard said, tucking the envelope under his arm. He didn't watch the shinigami disappear into the mist as he jogged back to the mansion. He jogged around to the servants' entrance, slipping into the still quiet manor. As he passed by the kitchen, he noticed Sebastian preparing Ciel's morning tea service. It was too early for it, really, unless the young master was getting up early for something. Which could be the case, as far as the cook knew.

"Did you have an enjoyable run?" Sebastian asked without turning. Bard sighed through his nose, leaning against the doorframe. He debated a moment before speaking.

"Yeah, it was good," he said. Sebastian paused, and Bard subconsciously held his breath. The demon knew he was hiding something; that much he had been expecting. Now he just hoped that the butler would let him have his secret, at least for the time being. He wasn't ready for this discussion, not yet. He relaxed when Sebastian returned to his work.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, only slightly clipped. Bard grunted in reply, heading up to the servant's quarters. He didn't spend much time there anymore, but he couldn't exactly hide the envelope in Sebastian's room, so the servant's quarters it would be. He peeked inside cautiously. It looked like Finnian and Tanaka were still asleep. Bard tiptoed in, closing the door behind him softly. He went to his bed and, quietly as possible, slid the envelope under the mattress. Then, just for show, he opened a few drawers. He knew it wouldn't last long as a deception, but it would work for now.

Getting dressed, he debated what to do about the situation. He had two choices; fill out the paperwork and become a shinigami upon his death, or don't fill out the paperwork and go to whatever afterlife was meant for him. As far as that went, he had no illusions. Being the lover of a demon, as well as basically a hired killer, made the result kind of obvious. Most people would probably have already filled out the paperwork. But… Bard needed a second opinion. And so he came to a decision.

"Isn't this something you should be asking Sebastian?" Ciel asked, irritated. Bard scratched the back of his neck.

"Well, yeah, but… eh," the cook said, giving the young earl a pleading look. Ciel glared.

"Bardroy, if this is due to some petty quarrel-"

"It's nothing like that!" Bard said quickly, holding up his hands. Then he sighed as Ciel looked at him expectantly. "It's just… it's personal, and I don't really want to talk about it."

"You can't expect me to accept that as a reason."

"Well, young master, I'd be happy to tell ya, the reason, but he could hear it."

"… fine. A week, and no more," Ciel said, turning in his chair. Bard sighed in relief.

"Thank you," he said, then turned an left the room. He made it to the end of the hallway before he was pulled around the corner and pressed into the wall. He met Sebastian's questioning gaze levelly. For a few moments, neither of them moved.

"London?"

"Family matter."

"… I see."

"… sorry. I just… can't; not right now, anyways."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"… fine."

Sebastian leaned forward and kissed him softly. Bard sighed into it, wishing he could explain what was going on. But he was too unsure right now; he didn't want to know what the butler thought when he still didn't know what to think. He needed to come to a decision before he told anyone else about this. Especially Sebastian.

The demon pulled away, giving Bard one more intense look before walking around the corner. The cook didn't move for a moment, letting the wall take his weight. He sighed, then pushed away and headed to the servants' quarters once more. He needed to pack for his trip, and to leave before his resolve faltered.

"Bard's leaving?" Finnian asked. Sebastian sighed at the boy's overreaction.

"Only for a week, on family business," the butler said. Saying the lie stung, but only because he didn't know the truth. It irritated him. What could possibly be so important that it couldn't be shared with him? Had he suddenly become untrustworthy?

"I hope everything's alright…" Mayrin said, putting a hand to her mouth. Sebastian fought back his irritated sigh. Maybe he'd done something… wrong. He'd seen enough human relationships to believe he imitated them perfectly… although usually when he attempted this he was rebuffed and told to act like himself…

"What kind of family business do you think it is?" Finnian asked. So perhaps he had done something wrong. He wasn't exactly accustomed to seriously courting his partner… especially after already having sex. Not that there had being anything usual about how this relationship had come about. He was, all things considered, doing the entire thing backwards…

"I haven't the slightest idea. Oh, but didn't he mention something about having family in the city that last time?" Mayrin replied. Finnian nodded. Was that the problem? That he was acting in the courtship role too late, and it had cause some sort of regression in their intimacy? No, he should be more specific. They had been physically intimate for quite some time, but emotionally speaking, that intimacy had only just begun. So was he perhaps jumping the gun in assuming he'd done something wrong?

"Yeah! The other time Bard and Mr. Sebastian were fighting!" Finnian said. Sebastian, lost in his thoughts, had tuned the two servants out, and missed Mayrin's jump as she covered the boy's mouth and pulled him aside. She whispered furiously into his ear, but Sebastian was wrapped in his reverie.

Maybe he hadn't done something wrong, maybe they just weren't that close, emotionally speaking, for Bardroy to speak to him on the matter. Whatever the matter was. But why would that be? Again, he was brought to the dilemma of what could be so important; what could make the man so serious and weighted down in such a short period of time? It had to do with whatever had happened on his morning run, and the envelope he had failed to hide. Which was somewhere in the servants' quarters, if he didn't think to take it with him. That was it! He would have to find the offending item before the man left…

Sebastian looked up from his thoughts to Mayrin looking sheepish and Finnian determined.

"…yes?" he asked. Mayrin kept her eyes on the floor, blushing as Finnian spoke.

"Mr. Sebastian, did you and Bard have a fight again?"

Sebastian stared. For all he'd thought he'd known, the other servants were unaware of he and Bard's relationship. And he knew the cook hadn't told them, so then…? He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to know.

"No, that is not the case, and would ask that you refrain from asking such questions in the future," he said. Finnian, naïve as he was, didn't even look ashamed. He just nodded and smiled.

"Well, at least it's not something like that!" he said. Sebastian blinked, then decided to let it go. He sent the gardener and maid off to their tasks, then checked on Ciel before heading to the servants' quarters. Listening, he knew Bard was in the room currently. It seemed he was truly leaving immediately. Sebastian debated a moment; he could wait to search the room until after he'd left, or he could take a chance that the man hadn't yet packed the envelope and provide a… distraction. It was hard to tell which option would yield the best results, but his thoughts were cut short as Bard emerged from the room. He was already out of his uniform, a rucksack over his shoulder. Making a quick decision, the butler hid. Bard shut the door behind him and left none the wiser.

Waiting until he could no longer be heard, the butler walked forward and slipped into the room. He spent only moments quietly checking each drawer in the room. When he didn't find the envelope, he paused in the center of the room, considering. It couldn't be too obvious; the cook knew him better than that. Perhaps under a loose floorboard? As he was about to check, he heard the bell to the master's study ring in the kitchen. He sighed, then turned. It would have to wait, then.

Bard made his way from the manor to the street. He walked a ways until he came across a hay cart headed towards the city. Catching a ride, he dozed most of the way. He hadn't been getting much sleep lately; that, and sleeping made it easier not to think. About an hour's walk outside the city, the cart owner dropped him off. Bard thanked the man and tipped him, then headed off. It was late afternoon by the time he got into the city.

He walked aimlessly for a bit, letting his feet carry him as he took in the semi-familiar sights. It was a quiet day, it seemed, which was comforting. It meant there was less chance that the Earl Phantomhive would be called to the city on business. By the time the man reached the inner city, the sky was red with the sunset, almost as if it had been stained by blood. Bard wondered if there was something wrong in finding it beautiful even with the mental image.

As the light was slowly ebbing beneath the horizon, Bard found himself at his destination. He looked up at the sign and sighed. Then, stealing himself, he strode in.

"Hm? Oh, I was wondering when you'd come to see me," the Undertaker said, smiling behind the counter of his shop. Bard smiled bittersweetly back.

"Hey, gramps, think you can put me for a bit?" he asked. Undertaker nodded, gliding around to meet him half way through the shop.

"Of course, of course~" he sang, leading Bard to the stairwell hidden in the back. "But what is my darling grandson here to see me for? Had a row with your lover?"

"… I got my paperwork today."

The Undertaker paused, then nodded again, continuing.

"I see, I see," he crooned. "No wonder you came to see me."

"Sorry it wasn't just a social visit."

"Nonsense! I'm always happy when my grandkids come to see me," Undertaker said as they climbed down the stairs. He showed Bard to a guest room, kept tidy if for an extra coffin or two.

"Well, I wish it was a social visit," Bard said, slinging his pack to the ground. Undertaker sighed, still smiling.

"That's only natural, I suppose," he said. Then he bounced into his typical chipper self. "Well, why don't you rest up, and we'll talk about it in the morning, hm~?"

"…yeah, that sounds good, gramps," he said. Undertaker nodded, waving as he whirled out the door. Bard sighed, laying back on the almost new bed. He stared at the dark ceiling, wondering what exactly tomorrow would bring.

The woman giggled, arranging the pieces on the table until they formed a letter 'E'. She practically purred, admiring her handiwork. Then she grabbed her dress from the floor, slipping into it with minimal difficulty. She glided to the man lying face down on the bed, smoothing his hair back and kissing his temple.

"Thanks for the contribution, love," she said. Then she giggled again, not bothering to cover the long tear in his back where she had ripped out his spine; the vertebrae licked clean and arranged oh so carefully on the table. With one last look around the room, the woman went to the window. She was three stories up, but it didn't seem to deter her. With a final giggle, she leapt, landing lightly on her feet. Rising, she purred into the night, sashaying down the alley like a cat that got in the cream.

Or, at the very least, one confident they were going to get it.


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian looked over the familiar missive that had been delivered at the door. A letter from the Queen; the Earl would be pleased. The butler set the letter on its tray, finishing his preparations of the young lord's afternoon tea service. He wheeled the cart through the quiet manor. He sighed almost unperceivably. Without the occasional explosion, the house seemed even quieter than usual. No, that wasn't quite it, was it? It had yet to even be a day, and already he was… anxious. It wasn't simply that his lover was gone; no, he wasn't so pathetic that the problem could be something so paltry. It was the reason why said lover was missing, or rather, lack thereof. Sebastian's search of the floorboards had been fruitless, and he hadn't time to check further that day. The butler found himself secretly hoping the letter took them to London. He had to laugh at himself for that; it had been a long time since he had bothered to hope for something.

"Good afternoon, my lord," Sebastian said as he entered Ciel's study. The young Earl was asleep in his chair. Sebastian sighed. Wheeling the cart off to the side, he took the letter and left it in clear view. There was little else he could do at the moment. He left the cart in the unlikely case that Ciel would waken soon enough to demand a snack, and then slipped out of the room. Finding himself indisposed, he decided to check over the servants' quarters once more. He checked the obvious places once more, just in case he had missed something. He checked under the man's bed, then the other two as well. Placing his hands on his hips, he looked around the room with a frown. He waited for inspiration to hit him, mentally checking all the hiding places available. He began a more thorough search of the bed, checking under the pillow, in the sheets, under the mattress… nothing. He must have taken the envelope with him, then. Well, it was a long shot to begin with.

"Sebastian."

He heard Ciel call his name from the Earl's study. With inhuman speed, Sebastian moved to bow in front of his master.

"Yes, my young lord?" he asked, smiling. Ciel had the letter in his hand, with photographs spread in the desk in front of him. It was still afternoon, though later than it had been.

"Prepare to leave for London immediately. It seems there's a serial killer on the loose, and Her Majesty has asked that I look into the matter," the Earl said. Sebastian rose, trying not to appear too pleased.

"How troublesome for her Majesty," he said, almost habitually. Ciel snorted.

"Whoever it is has the police completely fooled, not that that's much of an accomplishment," he said as Sebastian approached the desk. The demon looked at the pictures, eyes widening in mild surprise. "Despite mountains of evidence, all their suspects have plausible alibis, and besides them, no one saw what happened to the men that have fallen victim to this person."

"They seem to be leaving a message," Sebastian said, moving to stand at Ciel's side. So far, the pictures depicted the victim's bones spelling out " E". Ciel nodded.

"I can't believe the fools waited until the fifth case before connecting the victims," he said. "It seems the first victim was in Liverpool, the second in Manchester, the third in Oxford and the last two in London. A detective from Liverpool followed the killer here, and he seems to be the only reason the cases were connected at all."

"A tragic boon, to be sure," the butler said, running through preparations in his head. Ciel, collecting the pictures as well as the letter, shrugged.

"Whatever the case, it's my responsibility now. I expect to be ready to leave within the hour," he said. Sebastian blinked in surprise.

"We won't reach the city until nightfall, my lord, are you not concerned?" he asked, half mocking. Ciel smiled cruelly.

"What do I have to be concerned about? Besides, this killer only targets adult men."

"Hm, I don't think I've ever seen this paperwork before~" Undertaker said, looking through the stack on the counter of his shop. Bard, moving a coffin to stand against the wall, snorted.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me…" he said. Undertaker merely hummed, skimming through the pages.

"Some of these questions seem pretty interesting… oh ho ho~ I wonder what they'll think of the answers…"

"What are ya talking about now?" Bard asked, moving another coffin. "And by the way, havin' me doing manual labor for yer lazy ass wasn't really why I came here, ya know…"

"Oh ho ho, but you don't really want to talk about this yet, do you?" Undertaker asked. "I'll be happy to answer any questions you have, Bardroy, but, you see, you haven't asked any."

"Yeah, well, what the hell am I supposed to ask?" Bard said, walking over to the counter.

"Now that's a question I can't answer!" Undertaker chirped, waggling a finger in Bard's face. Then he grinned. "But maybe you can answer one of these?"

The eccentric man waved his hand over the paperwork spread before him. Bard stared at it, then sighed, turning away.

"What else did you want done, gramps?" he asked. Undertaker hummed. Just as he'd thought.

"Just finish what you were doing there~" he said. He looked up as someone entered the shop. The gray haired man immediately whirled around the counter, grinning manically. "And what have we here? I don't imagine you've come to buy one of my specialty coffins."

"Ha ha, I'm afraid not," the man at the door said, smiling gently. He was short, with messy, shoulder width black hair and a blindfold over his eyes. Bard looked at him curiously. He wasn't human, that much he knew.

"It's been some time since I last saw you, Carmen. Sorry about your eyes, they were always so wonderfully intense when they glared at the world," Undertaker said. Carmen laughed.

"You would recall that, wouldn't you? Most everyone does," the man said, taking a step forward. Undertaker actually seemed surprised.

"… so even you can change," he said. In the blink of an eye, he bounced over to lean over the man's shoulder. The man's smile never faltered. "But, I wonder, what business does an angel have in an undertaker's shop…?"

"That you already know," Carmen said, then turned his head to look at Bard. "May I speak with you?"

Bard looked at the Undertaker. The man shrugged. The cook debated a moment, then sighed.

"Sure, why not?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Thank you," Carmen said, leading the way into the street. Undertaker stopped his descendant with a hand on his arm.

"Be careful. He seems to have lost his hotheadedness, but I wouldn't let my guard down," he said. Bard nodded, then continued out the door.

"Was he warning you about me?" Carmen asked as Bard walked out of the shop. Then man blinked in surprise. Carmen turned to smile at him. "I'm used to it."

"… right. Can we just get whatever this is over with?" Bard asked, setting off. Carmen followed suit.

"All I want is to talk, I assure you," the man said. "Though I suppose you haven't met an angel before."

"Can't say I have," Bard said, only a little bitter. He stopped in surprise at a hand on his wrist.

"I'm sorry for what has happened in your past, but the rules for angels on the mortal plane are even more stringent than those for shinigami," Carmen said. He seemed to be staring right at Bard, despite the blindfold. The cook brushed him off, rubbing at the tingling sensation the touch left behind.

"Whatever, can we just focus on why you're here?" he asked. Carmen sighed, but smiled again as they kept walking.

"I've been sent to convince you not to become a shinigami," he said. Bard stared at the smaller man.

"… what?" he asked. Carmen shrugged.

"Your mortal soul is important to the big guy upstairs, and if you become a shinigami, well…" he said. Bard shook h head.

"Well, yeah, I get that part, but… I mean, why would Heaven be after my soul?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Carmen asked, genuinely surprised. Bard stopped dead in his tracks. He stared.

"I sleep with a demon, a male demon, on an almost daily basis," he said. "My job is basically a hired killer. Does none of that mean anything to you?"

"Amnesty is being offered to you by my superiors," Carmen said. "I don't actually I agree with them, but I still believe that God cares deeply for you, Bardroy Chet Lewin. And, as long as you wish it from him, and love him whole heartedly, no sin can hold you here against your will."

"… you know, you're don't look much like I expected an angel to look like…"

"You'd figured I'd be taller, right?" Carmen asked, smiling. Bard paused, then snorted, which turned into a laugh.

"Well, there's that, I guess," he said. Then he sighed. "Listen, I don't really want to talk about this-"

"That's fine. I was only sent to make you aware of your options," Carmen said, turning. "Take all the time you need, Bardroy."

Bard watched the man walk off, disappearing into the evening crowd. He sighed, then turned to head back to the Undertaker's shop._ What the hell? As if I didn't have enough to think about…_

"… what is this?" William asked. The man standing in front of his desk held out his hand.

"Rueben Bonham, Head of the American Division," he said. William stared a moment, then reached forward to shake. "What I have given you is the paperwork for myself and my senior agents, Marcus Wilkerson and Cynthia Cotterill. We have obtained permission to operate here in London for this month."

"… any particular mission?" William asked, looking over the paperwork.

"No," Reuben replied. "We are operating as free agents outside our district."

"Understood," William said. The shinigami rose. "William T. Spears, supervisor of the Dispatch Division. If you have any problems, contact me immediately."

"Understood," Reuben said. "We will try not to be a hindrance to your work."

William nodded. Then, outside, the two men heard a crash. William sighed in irritation, and Reuben recognized the emotion. He followed as William made his way into the hallway.

As suspected, Grell seemed to be the main cause of trouble. The insufferable redhead was glaring at a young blonde woman, chainsaw at the ready. The woman, also a shinigami, had her own death scythe out. It was a large, metal tined fan.

"You bitch! I'll rip your throat out!" Grell shouted, charging. The woman laughed, dodging.

"I think it'll be hard to do that with a chainsaw, honey," she said, hitting the other shinigami's back with the flat of her fan. William adjusted his glasses, prepared to deal with the situation. Reuben beat him to it.

"Cynthia, put your scythe away, now is not the time for games," the man said.

"Aw, but it was jus' gettin' fun!" the woman whined, putting her scythe away none the less. She hopped over to stand at Reuben's side. They were joined by another shinigami, a brown haired male whom looked bored.

"Sorry, Reuben, I tried to stop her…" he said.

"Do better next time," Reuben commanded. The guy just shrugged.

"William~!" Grell cried, jumping at the other shinigami and missing. "It was horrible! That woman said-!"

"Aw, I was only jokin'!" Cynthia suddenly said. "Yer a beautiful woman, I was jus' itchin' for a fight, is all, and you looked stronger'n Marcus so I thought I'd instigate a bit."

"Cynthia, that kind of behavior is unacceptable," Reuben said. The woman sighed.

"Yessir," she said. "Sorry, honey, I'll be more honest next time."

"So, are we heading out or what? Offices are always boring…" the other shinigami said. Reuben sighed, then turned to William.

"I apologize for my subordinate's behavior," he said. "We shall be taking our leave now."

"… as you will. I expect reports at least once a week."

"Understood," Reuben said. Then he turned. "Let us go."

"Finally…" the guy, presumably Marcus, said, trailing after Reuben. Cynthia waved.

"See y'all later now!" she said. William and Grell watched in relative silence as they left.

"Who the hell were they?" Grell asked. William snorted, turning back to his office.

"Americans," he said.


End file.
